A Quiet Christmas
by white maiden
Summary: Ron rushes home in time for Christmas only to find something really surprising. A short Christmas story.


The pain was unbearable. Ron bit the insides of his cheeks as he tried to stop himself from howling in pain. He kicked the wretched doll across the foyer and muttered a long string of obscenities as he hobbled around on one foot. Once his breathing had slowed to its normal pace, he continued tiptoeing across the ancient floorboard hoping to approach the stairs. He clutched his small overnight bag to his chest, watching out for any further obstacles before him.

While staring intently at the stairs before him, he failed to see the soft brown teddy bear lying in the middle of the hallway. The second his right foot connected with said teddy bear, sparks flew up and a miniature fireworks display light up the hall. A song erupted from the plush toy's mouth, something vaguely sounding like "Deck the Halls."

A little redhaired girl ran into the room, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Ron froze, knowing he had been caught.

"Santa is that you?" the voice asked quietly, as she strained to see in the now fading light from the fireworks.

"Rosie? What in Merlin's name are you doing out of bed?" Ron asked, dropping his bag and stooping down to gather the small child in his arms. The small girl giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Mummy said you wouldn't be home until after Christmas!"

"I got home early, because I couldn't bear to be apart from you any longer," He smiled and placed a kiss atop his daughter's head. "Now what are you doing up? It's three in the morning," he scolded gently.

Rose's face crumpled in thought. "Well earlier, Mummy, Hugo and I baked chocolate chip cookies for Santa. Then we left milk and cookies for him, and Mummy tucked us into bed. But Hugo and I snuck back down to see if Santa would really come this year. Hugo fell asleep."

Rose gestured to the sleeping form curled up by the edge of the fireplace. Ron stifled a laugh as he watched his son for a moment. He walked into the living room, smiling as he took in the comfortable holiday spectacle. The Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner of the room, neatly wrapped presents piled under it. The mantel over the fireplace was covered with the many Christmas cards the family had received, bursting with merry greetings. Ron then leaned down to his son and coaxed him awake.

"Hugh, come upstairs," he whispered to the small boy. The auburn haired boy mumbled in agreement, and allowed his father to carry him in his arms. Ron balanced his overnight bag on his available shoulder, and then held his hand out to his daughter. Rose took his hand eagerly before leading him up the stairs, whispering excitedly about the plans for Christmas dinner at Grandmum Molly and Grandpa Arthur's house.

Ron listened for a few moments, as he placed Hugo in his bed, and then led Rose into her bedroom. "Who's plan was it to boobytrap the house?" asked Ron, as he waited for Rose to remove her bedroom slippers and climb into the bed.

"Uncle George."

"Why do I even bother asking?" Ron sighed as he tucked the blankets around her tiny form.

"I dunno. It was brilliant, wasn't it?" she exclaimed excitedly, before her father quieted her and urged her back against the pillows.

"I'm not sure if I would say brilliant," Ron smiled as he rubbed the bruise now forming on his shin.

"Yes you would," she needled, grinning maniacally as her father admitted defeat.

"All right. It was clever, but your uncle neglected to tell you that he's been on Santa's naughty list since he was born and you do not want to be like him. Besides, every one knows that Santa won't come until he's sure everyone's asleep. There's no fooling him."

"Why not?"

"It's magic."

"But we're magic."

"Well it's a different kind of magic."

"How different?"

"The kind you just have to believe in, even if you don't have a wand to prove it."

"But that's silly."

"Merlin you sound like your mother."

"Aren't I like mum?"

"Yes, except a little less serious. Sometimes when she was young, I wasn't sure she knew how to laugh." Ron punctuated the point by tickling Rose until she began to laugh hysterically. He kissed her forehead tenderly and whispered, "Don't tell her I said that."

"I won't," Rose promised, as she snuggled into her pillow. Ron turned off the bedside lamp and turned to leave the room.

"Goodnight Rosie."

"Night Daddy."

He closed the door behind him and gingerly stepped on his now sore right foot. He made sure to step down the hall lightly, wary of any remaining undiscovered boobytraps. Ron smiled as he entered the room to find his wife still sound asleep. He placed the overnight bag carefully by the door, before creeping into the bathroom to wash up and change for bed.

After changing, he gingerly lifted the covers and snuggled next to his wife's warm body, wrapping his arms around her waist lovingly.

"That bag had better be moved in the morning. Someone could trip and hurt themselves," she murmured softly.

"Sorry. I promise I'll move it."

"Did you get caught in the tinsel net?"

"The what?"

"Harry stopped by around midnight to sneak presents under the tree, and I was doing some work in the office. I heard them shrieking with laughter and their poor Uncle Harry caught in a web of tinsel."

"That's absolutely brilliant," Ron chuckled.

"Harry didn't seem to think so." The two laughed quietly for a moment, before silence fell between them.

Hermione turned to face her husband and kissed him lovingly. Even in the dimness of the room, Ron could see the outline of her smile.

"I'm glad you're home. I don't know how I could've celebrated Christmas without you, and honestly by celebrated I mean, corralled those two for dinner at their Grandparents."

"You couldn't. You'd be lost without me," Ron laughed as he pressed his lips to her neck delicately.

"Cheeky git," she smirked as she elbowed him playfully.

"Love you too darling. Now sleep before those two come pouncing on us at the crack of dawn."

"Oh Good, just two more hours," groaned Hermione as she eyed the clock ticking away on the bedside table. Ron had never heard the house this quiet in years. He chuckled softly, knowing that soon the house would be filled with the raucous sounds of laughter and teasing between the various family members on their way the Burrow. Before the thought of chasing those two monsters down the halls with their winter gear and cleaning up after piles of wrapping paper had been shredding across the family room, Ron relished this silent moment here with his wife.

"Happy Christmas Hermione," he whispered softly.

"Happy Christmas Ron."


End file.
